The Man Who Rose Again. Hocking Joseph
of the joke."
"No, you wouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because you dare not. Because she would despise us all to our last day, because she would never speak to us again. You know the kind of girl she is."
Sprague was silent.
"Is it a dinner-party which Mr. Castlemaine is giving, or is Leicester invited in a friendly way, I wonder?" he said presently.
"Evidently a friendly invitation, seeing Mr. Castlemaine has written the letter with his own hand."
"Was it true that you told Mr. Castlemaine the truth about him?"
Purvis looked uncomfortable.
"Evidently he did not believe it," he replied, after hesitating a few seconds. "You know Leicester's way. When you look into those wonderful eyes of his you cannot tell whether he's joking or whether he's in earnest. Besides, he's such a handsome, fascinating chap, and I saw that Mr. Castlemaine took to him. Then, although it is perfectly true that he talked in his usual mocking way during a part of the evening, he altered his tone before he left. Evidently he found Miss Castlemaine to be a congenial companion, for he grew quite earnest in his conversation, and you know that when he is earnest, he is nothing short of brilliant. In fact, he showed us two Radford Leicesters that night: we had Leicester the cynic, but we had also Leicester the scholar, the brilliant conversationalist, the man who has read everything worth reading, and seen everything worth the seeing. No one could help noticing how Miss Castlemaine admired him."
"And you believe he'll carry this thing through now?"
"I'm sure he'll propose to her. Didn't you see his eyes? And you know what a fellow he is. When once he sets his mind upon a thing he'll go straight on. Ordinary considerations do not daunt him. Refusals will only make him more determined. Besides, you wounded his pride to-night, and – well, I wish we had not been such fools. For my own part, I am ashamed of the whole business."
"I tell you we need not fear. We know what Miss Castlemaine is. She is not the kind of woman to be carried away by a handsome presence and clever speeches. It isn't as though this would be her first offer."
"No, but she admires strength. Do you know her favourite characters in history?"
"No."
"Well, just think. The men she admires most are Luther, Richelieu, Cromwell, and Napoleon."
"A curious combination."
"Yes, but each one of them had the same characteristics. All of them were strong men, men who dared great things, played for great stakes."
"Well, Leicester has not dared great things."
"But he's capable of great things. Why, you know as well as I, that when he's in a room, every one else is put in the shade, that is if he cares to exert himself. I tell you Leicester could be a great man, if he only had the motive power."
"But we need have no fear. When did you say he was invited to Mr. Castlemaine's?"
"Next Thursday week."
"I wish we were invited too," said Sprague.
"Who knows? – perhaps we may be."
As a matter of fact they were, and when the night of the dinner came round they both found themselves sitting not only in close proximity to Leicester, but also to Miss Olive Castlemaine. For this was one of those rare occasions when John Castlemaine gave a dinner-party.
Radford Leicester sat beside Olive Castlemaine, and all admitted that they were the most striking-looking couple in the room. Had they met in some brilliant society throng, they would have been just as noteworthy. Moreover, this was one of those nights when Radford Leicester found himself in a mood to exert himself, while Olive Castlemaine, as hostess, naturally desired to be agreeable.
For the first part of the dinner but little of note was said. The conversation passed from one topic to another. Motor-cars, a continental exhibition, the latest new novel of note, and the political situation were each discussed in their turn. Society scandal was not indulged in, and the sayings and doings of actresses and music-hall singers were not to be mentioned. Thus, when one comes to think about it, the conversation was of a considerably higher standard than that often indulged in at society functions. But then it must be remembered that John Castlemaine was a middle-class man, who professed the Christian religion, and the atmosphere of his house was not favourable to "smart" talk.
Indeed, if the truth must be told, Radford Leicester grew rather restive under it. He noticed, too, that both Sprague and Purvis were watching him closely, and listening to all he had to say. He instinctively knew of what they were thinking, and more, he felt certain that if his host and hostess were aware of the circumstances which led to his being their guest that night, a servant would have shown him to the door. Moreover, although he was not afraid of the outward effect of taking much wine at dinner, he was obliged to be abstemious. Olive Castlemaine had heard of his weakness, and would doubtless take note of the number of times the waiter filled his glass.
Presently, when discussing politics, someone remarked on the amount of self-sacrifice which had been practised by Members of Parliament, especially by those who held a prominent position in the country.
"Mr. Leicester does not believe in that," remarked Purvis. "He is of opinion that it is all great fun."
At this all eyes were turned towards Leicester.
"You are mistaken," he replied, "I believe the self-sacrifice of these men is very great."
"Mr. Leicester has surely altered his opinion of late," remarked Sprague. "Behold, a Saul among the prophets!"
"Not in the slightest, I assure you," replied Leicester. "I believe that hosts of these men sacrifice themselves a great deal. If you ask me who they sacrifice themselves for, I should say – themselves."
"Then the candidate for Taviton sacrifices his leisure for – "
"The candidate for Taviton, exactly. My dear Sprague, you have hit off the situation with your usual felicity."
"I don't think Mr. Leicester is fair to himself," remarked Olive Castlemaine, looking questioningly into Leicester's face.
"I assure you I am," replied Leicester. "Indeed, I am inclined to think that the people who are called self-sacrificing are very undesirable people to associate with."
"Come, come now, Leicester, you don't believe that," said Purvis.
"I assure you I do most sincerely," replied Leicester quietly. "The other day I was at a house where there were six people present, and they were waiting to play some game where only four could take part. Well, four of them were self-sacrificing people, and wanted to give way to the others. Two were selfish, and desired to engage in the game. Well, neither of these four would give way in their unselfishness – with the result that the game was never played at all. The evening was spoiled by unselfish people."
He looked so serious as he spoke that Olive Castlemaine laughed outright.
"Many an evening which might have been pleasant," went on Leicester, "has been spoiled for me by these unselfish people making themselves and everybody else uncomfortable, under the pretence that they were trying to make us comfortable. Of this I am sure, if people were really and truly honest, and were openly selfish, then each man would seek his own enjoyment and find it."
"And be miserable when he had found it," remarked Olive quietly.
"I assure you that is a fallacy," said Leicester, "else why is it that the so-called moral and unselfish people are the most disagreeable to deal with? This I can say truly, the most morose and unhappy people I have ever met are these moral reformers."
"Then what would you suggest?"
"A good healthy paganism. I know this is an awful heresy, but can any reasonable man say that the English, with all their religious institutions, are as happy as the old Greeks were?"
"We can't accuse Leicester of hiding his light under a bushel," said Sprague to Purvis, after dinner, during which Leicester continued to talk in the same strain.
"No, but I have yet to see that Miss